A Deadly Mistake
by staindgrey
Summary: Leon Kennedy is the definition of being cool under pressure. After saving Ashley Graham and returning her to the White House, things have been peaceful for both of them. But times of peace are always ended by mistakes, and mistakes are always made...
1. The Mistake

**Disclaimer: **Alright. As you all may very well know already, I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise or any of its characters. Those rights belong to Capcom. Also, I have only been able to play Resident Evil 0 and 4, but have done rather thorough research on all the characters' backgrounds and history to make sure I didn't screw up somewhere, but if I do have something that conflicts with the canon of the series, please email me and let me know and I'll have it fixed. Just please don't flame me over it; it's not that big of a deal.

So, without further ado, I bring you...

---

**Resident Evil: A Deadly Mistake**

**Chapter 0 – The Mistake**

**---**

It was the biggest mistake I could have ever made, one that would cost me my job, my prestige, and, eventually, my life. All that work that I had put in to get here... All of what I had had to endure in order to just stay alive... All of that was wasted in one simple action on one summer night.

I could blame it on her. I could put the burden, or at least a fraction of it, on her shoulders, but, as I had been told more than enough in my training, "self-denial is the first step to corruption". I could try to explain how _she_ came onto _me _first, but that would be disregarding the fact that _I _gave into _her_. I had the final say; it was my fault. And yet, I didn't feel guilty. How could I? For the first time since the incident in Spain, her face had brightened up; her personality caught fire once more and a smile once again graced her lips. No, this wasn't a feeling of guilt that I had to endure- it was a feeling of stupidity. I was stupid for giving in, giving into her desire and giving up all that I had sweat, bled, and almost died for. Someone would find out. Someone would find out and I would be court-martialed. The only question left was how long I had before that happened.

"Is something wrong, Leon?" The hushed words brought me back to reality as I felt the warm breath of a young woman against my bare chest. I lifted my head up off of the pillow beneath it and locked eyes with the angel who had spoken; they were happy and warm with just a hint of worry, which was clearly intended for me. I gave her a small smile in response, receiving a bigger one from her almost immediately after. I felt the light tingle of her soft, angel-like blonde hair resting on my chest as she lowered her chin down against me, her chocolate brown eyes never leaving mine until I finally spoke.

"I'm fine, Ashley," was my only response. There was no need to complicate things more than they already were. She was convinced that we could stay together this way forever and no one would ever find out. I don't know where she got that notion; being the president's daughter provided little to no privacy at anytime. The only reason this could even somewhat remain a secret was the fact that I was her personal bodyguard. I was _supposed _to be close to her, but not this close. Not so close that I could feel her warm, nude body against mine under the covers of her bed- that was most likely too close.

"Liar." Apparently, Ashley could read me better than I thought. I gave a small grunt of a laugh to compliment her giggling before she kissed my chest gently with her warm, soft lips, adjusting herself so she could free her arms and wrap them around behind my head. She moved up my body, straddling me and bringing her face up close to mine to peck me on the lips. Her lips were so soft and sweet... They tasted like cherries. She held her face over mine, her eyes so close I had to concentrate to see both of them. She was truly a beautiful girl... I only wished I could actually make myself enjoy being with her.

"Leon," she began, whispering just loudly enough for me to hear, her hot breath brushing against my lips with every word she spoke, "I know you're worried, but trust me, no one will find out, okay? Daddy won't ever know." She smiled warmly and I tried to return the smile the best I could. Without waiting for me to respond, she closed her eyes and leaned down to kiss me again, this time not pulling away so quickly. Once again, as every time before, I gave in, wrapping her delicate body in my arms and holding her close to me as she opened my mouth with her little pink tongue. I let her explore my mouth for a moment before fighting back with my own tongue, and the French kiss began, once again. Every bit of the moment took over my senses: the light brushing of her hair against my cheeks, her hot breath rushing into my mouth, her tongue feeling and lathering mine, her teeth lightly grating my bottom lip, her warm body lying on top of me, her hips straddling me in a rather convenient spot... Every bit of her being enthralled me, every little action excited me, so why couldn't I just enjoy it?

"I love you, Leon." Her words were practically spoken right into my open mouth as she hardly broke the kiss to say it. I said nothing in return, just as I never had. I knew she wanted me to say it, she wanted to believe that this was love and that I would be here for her forever. She wanted to believe that I was her knight in shining armor, that fate had drawn us together and that I was only able to save her before because of the powerful love I had for her. As perfect a fairytale as that created, however, it just couldn't happen.

And yet, I did nothing to stop her.

---


	2. The Penalty

**Disclaimer: **Alright. As you all may very well know already, I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise or any of its characters. Those rights belong to Capcom. Also, I have only been able to play Resident Evil 0 and 4, but have done rather thorough research on all the characters' backgrounds and history to make sure I didn't screw up somewhere, but if I do have something that conflicts with the canon of the series, please email me and let me know and I'll have it fixed. Just please don't flame me over it; it's not that big of a deal.

So, without further ado, I bring you...

---

**Resident Evil: A Deadly Mistake**

**Chapter 1 – The Penalty**

**---**

I felt like a child sitting and waiting outside the school principal's office waiting anxiously for my punishment, only the stakes were just a tad higher: I had been caught in bed with President Graham's only daughter. It's not smart to get involved with the child of the most powerful man in the world, but then again, if I were any smarter I wouldn't have signed up for a job that could get me killed at any moment. Raccoon City, then Los Illuminados, and now this. I had shit for luck.

I imagined that the other room was filled with the screams and tears of a brokenhearted young lady, but the walls of the President's personal chambers were obviously soundproof. At the door stood Jason Van Wert, my colleague in the president's secret service, dressed up in the standard black tailored suit with a necktie and transparent earpiece. He was a moderately sized black man with a nearly bald shaven head and eyes that were even darker than his skin. He stood at attention with his arms held loosely in front of him, holding his wrist so that his hands rested just below his crotch. He looked like a cardboard cutout, shaped to be exactly like every other SS member: plain, simple, and robotic. I could never have accepted this job if I had to dress like that; luckily my prior experience gave me enough credibility to bypass that regulation. But I supposed it didn't matter anymore. Now I just had to think of what my next job would be.

"Man..." The single word was followed by a small chuckle, snapping me out of my gaze as I looked over at Van Wert, who now had a smirk painted on his previously stone lips. "You fucked up, Kennedy." Another chuckle. I shrugged, not budging from my seat.

"Whatever." I wasn't quite as dressed for the occasion as he was; there was little to no chance I would still have a job within the next hour, so why bother looking nice for the boss? I wore my most comfortable blue jeans with a plain black t-shirt and my relatively new black boots. On me, I still had the Punisher handgun I had received back in Spain strapped to my waist and my trusty knife tucked into the side of my boot. As I sat on the chair resting on my knees with my elbows and stared a hole straight through the ground, Wert persisted in trying to pour salt into my wounds.

"What was going through your head, Kennedy? You think that just because you saved the Ashley you can fool around with her as your prize? Jesus, man! She's the _president's _daughter!"

"I said whatever," I repeated, not looking up for but a moment, my face expressionless as my hair shielded the eye closest to the man I was talking to.

His tone softened a bit, his voice going lower. "Well, I can't blame you. She's a sweet girl… with a fine ass to go with it." He gave another quieted laugh before finally shutting up, thank God.

"Tsh." I continued trying to break through the floor panels with my eyes, twiddling my thumbs in impatience. I wasn't edgy because of what my punishment might be- I already knew I'd get a "Thank you for saving my daughter, but you're out of here. There's the door." talk- I was actually more nervous about Ashley's reaction. It wasn't out of 'love' or anything like that, I just hated to see any young lady cry because of me. I knew she would be disconsolate to a pretty high degree; after all, I took her virginity after saving her from a horrific near-death experience. Perhaps she had really fallen in love with me, I wasn't sure, but regardless of if it was love or a teen-like crush, it would be hard for her to watch me leave and never be allowed to see me again. It wasn't like she could sneak out at night through a window in her room like an every day high school kid- her buddies in the SS would make that impossible. But perhaps things were better this way... At least I could move on with my life, too.

Suddenly, the sound of a twisting doorknob and a shouting girl storming out caught my ear. I sat up in my seat and beheld Ashley, teary-eyed and red-faced, stomping out like a sixteen year-old in her brown flats on the hard floor. She hardly resembled a twenty-one year-old as she looked at me, instantly breaking into more tears at the sight of me. As she reached her hands up to her face to shield herself from being seen, I suddenly felt compelled to hold her, and did so in a split second, not giving it a second thought. I stood and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her close and letting her bury her sodden face into my chest. I didn't have any words of wisdom or comfort for her, but the way she clung to me, wanting me even closer, made me wish I could come up with something.

"I'm sorry... Leon..." she got out amidst the coughs and gags as she poured her tears onto my shirt. I rubbed her back gently as I looked up to see Wert looking directly at us, a hint of sympathy in his eyes that should never be shown by an SS agent. We locked gazes and he gave me a nod, which I returned. I supposed it was a farewell nod, an affirmation of respect. I was happy enough with that.

Just then, though, the President came out of his room, whispering something to Wert who immediately walked past us and down the hallway, holding his earpiece and talking to whomever was on the other end of the line. As he brushed past us, Ashley reluctantly pulled away from me, turning to face her father with a visibly heavy heart.

"Dad, please..."

"Mr. Kennedy, my room, please."

The order was direct and simple. I responded with a casual, "Sir," and walked past Ashley without a second glance; there was no need in getting her even more upset. It was my time to own up for my mistake and move on.

As I entered the room, the First Lady exited, leaving the room to only me, the President, and the two SS agents standing at the back of the room, Jacobs and Ungerman. Each was dressed identically to Van Wert, only both sported sunglasses. The President closed the door behind me as I looked around his room for the last time, noticing that the curtains had been drawn tightly shut; it was clear that this entire situation was to be kept under wraps.

"Leon..." he started, shaking his head and wiping his brow of sweat and frustration. His hand trailed all the way to the back of his head, where he scratched a bit, as if thinking of exactly what he should say next, or how to word it. I simply answered, "Sir," and let him continue: "I'm speaking to you as a father now, not a politician. And I have to say... that I'm disappointed. I trusted you, Leon, I trusted you alone with my daughter's life, and you came through for me, for her. But now... Now you've absolutely _killed_ that trust. _Killed it!_" I remained emotionless in my expression, not wanting to look overly guilty despite my feelings of culpability. He went on, "Now what am I supposed to do, Leon? Huh? I obviously can't let you keep your job, or any other job in the government for that matter!" Again, I didn't say anything. Pleading my case would be useless and juvenile. But the fact that I wasn't speaking out seemed to upset the man, like he expected me to confirm Ashley's probable comments on how we were in love and whatnot. He tried to draw it out of me, but, sadly, there was nothing to draw out.

"I deserve whatever punishment you deem necessary, sir." Well, it at least broke the awkward silence.

The President once again shook his head as he paced around, looking at the ground and then the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with me at all costs. It was almost as if he felt guilty for what he was about to do. "Leon..." he began, his voice no longer harsh and loud, but only just soft enough to be heard. "I'm going to send you on one last mission, one that has been kept top secret for the past two months. We sent 2 CIA operatives to a suspicious area in Alaska, where we tracked multiple large shipments of different vaccines and biochemical supplies related to the makeup of the T- and G-Viruses. Neither of the men was heard from again. Their last transmission to us consisted of nothing but illogical screams of terror."

I think he could tell by the expression on my face that I already knew the rest of the story, but he continued anyway. "We sent in the nearest SWAT unit available to investigate and retrieve the men, but they were ambushed once they found the bodies in an apparently deserted warehouse full of rotting bodies. It's safe to say that the ambush was carried out by those corpses, created by the same virus that infected Raccoon City."

"So," I interrupted, "you lost two CIA agents and an entire SWAT team without so much as one survivor and now you're sending me in on a one way trip? Have I got it straight?"

The older man nodded. "Yes. Firing you for whatever reason would be suspicious enough for the media to get their noses into the affair, and we can't have that in this time of war. The American people have enough to worry about besides corruption in the White House. Besides, you're the only one we've got that has extensive experience dealing with these... these _things. _Your mission will be to find out the cause of these events, who is behind it, and bring back any survivors you can find. Hunningan will brief you on everything else when you depart."

"I see... I'll be your last test dummy before you just nuke the place and eliminate the virus for good like the last president did. And it's also a perfect way to get rid of me, so in the end you win." I shook my head with a small, unbelieving grin spreading across my lips. "I can't believe the punishment for unwedded sex is death..."

"Kennedy, now is not the time to act cocky," he warned. "Personally, I don't care whether you live or die. If you survive, then you will help us keep the virus under wraps and I will give you an honorable discharge in return. If you die, then it will be the perfect cover for your own mistake. Just think of it as your reconcilement."

"Heh, win/win situation." The President shook his head at me again as he turned back towards the door, giving me a few last words as I followed behind him.

"Consider it a charity from me, Leon. I liked you, really. I just never expected..." He stopped, as if trying to push the image out of his head. I didn't blame him. "I think we're done here. Report to the SS quarters tomorrow morning, and they'll get you prepped to go." He opened the door, generously enough, for me, and bid me farewell with an almost silent, "Good luck."

"Thanks." As I strolled out of the President's room, I found Ashley, still in the same exact spot as before, waiting for me with what seemed like an even redder face than she had before. She held her hand up to her mouth to hold back another cough as I approached her, smiling a hollow smile to try and ease the mood. It didn't work; she broke down again and latched onto me, trying to suffocate me with a bear hug that seemed far too strong for her delicate arms to be able to make. I hugged her back as her father and the two secret service men passed by us, none of them looking back at us, leaving us alone in the hall. Ashley sobbed a few more times before speaking again.

"What's going to happen to you. Leon...?" She lifted her head to look at me as she asked with a sniffle at the end. She undoubtedly had already been told what my dead end mission was to be.

"I don't know," I answered, "I'll just try to come back alive if I can." She refused to look away from me, expecting some sort of promise that I'll see her again, or a final loving goodbye, or _something_, but I just didn't have anything to say. She was a beautiful, wonderful girl, but this part of my life was over, assuming I even had many parts left to experience. Who knows, maybe I could have fallen in love with her as well with time, but this mistake made sure that would never happen, and her now shattered heart was my doing. What a way to go, knowing you broke a young woman's heart, only to die and make things worse soon after. Fate can be a dick sometimes.

"Come back alive," she said before pressing her face back into my chest again. Her usual scent of warm vanilla sugar filled my nostrils as I gave her a long peck on the top of her head, hoping to help ease her crying at least a little bit. I would miss that aroma more than anything, that wonderful scent that matched her sweet personality perfectly. I rubbed her back through the material of her shirt slowly, tracing it with my palms and kissing her head again. All I wanted was for her to be happy again, but that was the same reason I made my mistake in the first place. Perhaps happiness was too ephemeral to make sacrifices for, but if I could just see her smile one last time... Perhaps it was worth it.

"_Please... come back alive..._"

---


	3. The Mission

**Disclaimer: **Alright. As you all may very well know already, I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise or any of its characters. Those rights belong to Capcom. Also, I have only been able to play Resident Evil 0 and 4, but have done rather thorough research on all the characters' backgrounds and history to make sure I didn't screw up somewhere, but if I do have something that conflicts with the canon of the series, please email me and let me know and I'll have it fixed. Just please don't flame me over it; it's not that big of a deal.

So, without further ado, I bring you...

---

**Resident Evil: A Deadly Mistake**

**Chapter 2 – The Mission**

**---**

I wasn't going to say goodbye. Goodbyes were just too hard- not for me, but for her. I tried not too imagine the way she would look at me as I gave her one last hug, the way she would stare straight into me, begging for the same kind of stare in return, only to never receive it. I didn't want to leave her with the realization that I was not in love with her and never was; she was better off thinking her father messed up her chance and eventually pursuing some other fish in the sea.

It was a beautiful summer day, with only the scantest amount of clouds blurring a perfectly blue sky. How ironic, to see a day like this on my way to my deathbed. I chuckled a bit to myself as I carried my suitcase towards the limousine awaiting me. It was the shorter model, not spanning too much longer than a normal sedan. Taking my last steps on the sidewalks of D.C., I made my way to the side door of the car, opened it, and let myself in.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Kennedy." There she was, Ingrid Hunnigan, as usual looking way too stunning to be in this kind of work. She wore business attire: black dress pants, high heels and a button up light purple shirt. Her hair was pulled back to make sure she didn't look as attractive as she could, probably just a precaution against me. But each time I saw her, I couldn't help but notice that she lacked a ring on her finger...

"I see you ditched the glasses today," I openly observed; she merely rolled her eyes.

"Let's try to keep this professional, Mr. Kennedy, hm?" She took her eyes off of me and opened a file sitting on her lap. The vehicle began to move, bringing my attention to the front seat. The driver was an older black man with a bushy white mustache and a caddy's cap atop his head. There was also a man in the passenger's seat, though all I could see of him was the back of his old ball cap and hints of some long black hair coming out on the sides; the rest was blocked by the seat's headrest. I assumed he was a pilot, after all there was no way we were going to drive all the way to Alaska in a limo.

"Here is your memo and background info for your mission." She brought my attention back to her as she handed me two normal filing folders, each filled with papers bunched up in paperclips.

"You know reading isn't my forte," I said as I opened the file titled 'History'. The very first image had a picture of Albert Wesker, the man behind the Raccoon City incident. Immediately my thoughts shifted to Ada and Krauser... Could this be the _Las Plagas_...?

"Well then I'll give you the briefing myself," she began. "As you've already been told, you're being sent to Wreeka, Alaska. It's an abandoned town some twenty miles away from Tenderfoot Creek. The area around the ghost town on all other sides is virtually nothing but snow and tundra, though the amount of wildlife isn't too high."

As she continued talking I was still flipping through the pages of the first folder, scanning the paragraphs briefly, taking notice of the highlighted sections Miss Ingrid was so polite to make for me. At the bottom of the fifteenth page was something that caught my eye: a picture of a young brunette girl... Name: Rebecca Chambers. It said she was a former S.T.A.R.S. medical assistant for the premiere group Bravo Team before Raccoon City was destroyed. She was the only survivor of a mass murder involving the rest of her squad in 1998 in the Arklay Mountains, just along the outskirts of the city. The report said that she had gone missing just less than a month ago.

"Cute girl," I interrupted, "but what does she have to do with Alaska? Says she lived in... Montana."

Hunnigan's features sobered instantly at my comment. "Leon..." She looked like she was just itching to tell me off, probably using something along the lines of 'Stop thinking with your dick and start thinking with your head,' but she restrained herself; didn't want to look unprofessional with others in the car. "As I recall, _that _kind of behavior is what got you into this situation in the first place, so let's try to stick to the facts, alright?" There, I knew it was coming. I guess that was about as professional as the chiding could sound.

"I am," I remarked, still analyzing the rest of her biography. "Anyway, it says she's been in residence with an escaped convict... named Billy Coen." His picture was on the very next page, as well as his bio. He looked tough, alright, especially with that tattoo on his left arm.

Hunnigan nodded. "He has gone by different aliases, but that was his enlistment name, yes. He was an ex-Marine, discharged and sentenced to death for the massacre of a South American village. Chambers had pronounced him officially dead in her report following the incident at the Umbrella training facility, though a body was never found. Investigators looked into the situation, but she refused to answer questioning and eventually moved to a farmhouse in southern Montana. When FBI investigators got a warrant and searched her house two months ago, evidence of a male resident was shown but he was long gone by then. The fact that she had been living with a convict condemned to death, along with her former affiliation with S.T.A.R.S., has led us to believe that her disappearance has a high possibility of being affiliated with the operations in Alaska."

"So then, the operations in Alaska, are they the actions of Umbrella?" The name still sent chills down my spine when I thought about it...

"No, Umbrella has long since dissipated into nothing. This is a new, nameless organization, one we know almost nothing about. It's very likely it is consisted of former Umbrella researchers, though most of them have passed away or are being held in captivity. The only high authority of Umbrella left unchecked is Albert Wesker. He is neither confirmed dead nor alive."

"He's alive." I switched back to the front page, glancing over his bio once more, remembering Ada and Krauser's actions from before... Krauser had been working for him all along, trying to get him the sample of _Las Plagas _from Saddler. I assumed Ada was after the same thing, but when she made off with the sample, she said she was giving it to someone else... I wished I could just stay out of this whole entire mess for once, but it always seemed to find me. Just my luck. "So enough about the history of this whole thing... I need details on the incidents in Alaska."

"Right, of course." Hunnigan flipped through a couple of her files then handed me two of them, one labeled 'AKI #1', the other, 'AKI #2'. I opened the first, finding pictures of the two CIA agents who went missing two months ago. The file didn't have much meat to it; little information was known about their disappearance. The second file was much of the same: pictures of the fifteen SWAT members lost and a transcript of their final transmission describing a warehouse storage room filled with corpses, followed by gunshots and screams of terror. _Great..._

"So wait a second... two CIA agents and an entire SWAT team goes missing and you send one guy in to fix the problem? Heh, I feel honored."

"Don't let it go to your head, Leon," she brashly reminded me. "You're the only one in the President's service that has experience with this sort of thing, and one or two reconnaissance men could infiltrate and find information better than another large group. Once we have more information from you, we can determine exactly what means of force should be used and how. If this operation is underdeveloped, we can stomp it out like a cigarette butt. But if it is already well-established..."

"...You'll nuke it like you did Raccoon City. I got it."

---

The rest of the car ride was a long one, with Hunnigan regurgitating more than enough information for me hold before we came to a small clearing in the middle of a heavily wooded area. It seemed rather unfashionable for a limousine to be roughing it along these small dirt paths, but obviously this was to be held as far away from the media's grasp as possible. As we approached the clearing, I could see a small, old fashioned airplane, complete with a propeller at the nose and retro-style painting; it looked like the Astros' old throwback jerseys. I knew from one of the files that it was a Cessna 170, the conventional model that eventually became the Bird Dog reconnaissance plane for the U.S. Air Force. Of course, that was back in the 50's; I just hoped to God this thing would actually get me to Alaska.

"Here we are," Hunnigan said, sounding like she had a hint of remorse, as if she was going to miss our times of debriefing; I'm sure it was just my 'ego' again. "Mr. Marino here will be your pilot and accomplice on your mission. You two will fly to Alaska, landing in a safe zone approximately seventy miles away from Wreeka. You will then take the snowmobiles provided there until you come within spotting range of the warehouse. You'll want to go by foot from there. Oh, and Leon, you may want to ditch the black," she taunted. "There will be white camouflage apparel in one of the plane's compartments. I suggest you use it."

"Thanks for the tip." I handed her the spare files I didn't need and kept what I did, taking only the first three folders she handed me: 'History' and 'AKI' numbers one and two. Marino opened his door and made his way out, taking only his faded leather bag, and I was soon to follow.

As I opened the door and stepped out, Hunnigan got one last word in. "As usual, you will be able to contact me using your video communicator if you need anything at all."

"Heh, don't worry, I'll call you plenty. I'm sure I'll get lonely up there." I ducked my head back in and gave her one last quick flirt, "So, when I get back, you wanna have dinner sometime?"

"Right... when you get back." She paused for a moment, which visibly confused me. "Sure." What was the pause for?

"Okay... See ya." I pulled away from the doorway and shut the door, watching the limo pull away back into the forest, leaving only a trail of fading dust behind. I held my bag of first aid supplies, nourishment and ammo in one hand, my files in the other, and slowly turned towards the plane Mr. Marino was already boarding. Now was my time to focus, to, I guess, _psyche myself out._ Having been in these situations before, I knew how to desensitize myself to the point that killing another individual did nothing to me; even if they happened to be zombies, mind-controlled aficionados, or whatever the hell else was out there, they were still human beings at one point. If I couldn't suppress my conscience, I was a dead man. And if I wanted to live on to see that honorable discharge, I had to survive. Within the next 24 hours, I would be fighting for my life once again... _Splendid_.

"Alright, where do I put my stuff?" I asked from a distance as I came closer to the plane. Marino was standing below the open door of the plane, checking a few things before he pulled himself into the driver's seat. He merely grunted and nodded towards the rear of the plane in response to my question before muttering something to himself. _Nice guy... _I went around to the other side of the plane and hopped in, tossing my bag and the three folders into the back behind my seat. Marino sat beside me, wearing aviator sunglasses and a weathered Marines ball cap, the bill of it curled and shading his features. He didn't look like he had shaved this morning, or even a few mornings prior, with what was beginning to shape into a black beard growing along his jaw line. He wore a long-sleeved denim shirt with his sleeves rolled up once at the end, revealing an old-fashioned wristwatch on his left hand. He had dark denim jeans to match with a pistol hooked to his side and black boots. I could tell he was a moderately sized man underneath, most likely better physically equipped than myself.

As he started the engine, he still hadn't spoken so much as one word to me. I figured I'd go ahead and start the conversation. "So, Mr... Marino? Any relation to a guy named Dan?"

"None," he answered, "Just a fan." He was so cold and reserved, definitely not the type of guy I was used to working with. I guess his indifference made me a little akward, 'cause as I tried to continue the conversation, I looked away from him, observing the scenery outside as I waited for the vehicle to start moving.

"Well then, should I call you Marino or do you have a first name?"

"The name's Billy."

The conversation ended there. One good blow to the back of the head and I blacked out. Damn, I should've seen it coming...

---


	4. Enter Billy Coen

**Disclaimer: **Alright. As you all may very well know already, I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise or any of its characters. Those rights belong to Capcom. Also, I have only been able to play Resident Evil 0 and 4, but have done rather thorough research on all the characters' backgrounds and history to make sure I didn't screw up somewhere, but if I do have something that conflicts with the canon of the series, please email me and let me know and I'll have it fixed. Just please don't flame me over it; it's not that big of a deal.

So, without further ado, I bring you...

---

**Resident Evil: A Deadly Mistake**

**Chapter 3 – Enter Bill Coen**

**---**

_Agh... Owww..._

My head was throbbing. My body was cold. I was lying on some sort of equally cold hard surface... Jesus my head hurt, especially in the back. What had happened...?

I slowly came to, my vision kind of blurry as I sat up and tried to look around, holding myself up and supporting my weight on my right arm. The ground felt like ice on my fingertips; even the gloved part of my hand couldn't help but feel the chill. I rubbed the back of my head with my opposite hand, feeling a welt there as I tried to remember what had happened to me...

"So, you're up? 'Bout time."

Suddenly it hit me. The mission, the plane... "You!" He was still blurry but I could tell it was him and just how far away he was. I didn't hesitate to scoot back, though I backed myself up against a wall. My adrenaline was pumping as my heart raced, not taking time to analyze the situation more than 'get the hell out'.

"Relax, pretty boy. Don't go get your panties in a bundle." Yeah, it was he same guy as before, the pilot, "Marino". I recognized his voice now, and I could finally make out his features. He had ditched the aviators and Marines cap by now, letting his smooth, jet black hair fall freely in a close-to-mullet form around his head. He also lost the denim shirt, leaving only a darkly shaded wife-beater clinging tightly to his shoulders and revealing the long, elaborate black tattoo that spread along his entire left arm down to his watch. His eyes were cold and distant, yet they didn't show any sign of threat, at least not for now. Besides, he had let me live for however long he had me knocked out, so what did I have to lose? I relaxed. I still had my eyes peeled, though.

"So who are you, really?" I kept up my tough guy persona I could use from time to time. He wasn't buying it; he simply laughed.

"I already told you that. The name's Billy." It was then that I noticed that bastard had my wallet in his hand.

"Marino? Nah, I'm guessing you're Coen, the convict sentenced to death almost seven years ago." I stayed where I was currently sitting. I didn't want to make any sudden movements and change his mood; I still had no idea what to expect from this guy.

"Your guess is correct," he answered, still fiddling with my wallet. "You secret service guys are sooo smart."

"What do you want from me?" I decided to jump to the next question, still wanting more information before I did anything else. It was becoming obvious he wasn't aiming to harm me yet- or he just wasn't too intelligent of a criminal- as he was kind enough to leave me with both my pistol and my knife.

"Me? Eh, I want nothing from you. You can walk right out of here if you want, but I know you won't. You're too curious." He didn't have the aura of some mastermind like others I had encountered before. He just, plain and simple, didn't seem to care.

"Well, curiosity killed the cat, and I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"So you're a cat then?" A dead silence followed. I didn't know how to answer, and he didn't seem to be joking. Then he laughed, finally ending the silence. "Chill out, man. You're too serious. You were more fun back in the limo."

I gave what little impression of a laugh I could in return. He wouldn't be laughing if he had the same headache I had right now. "Cat or not, I guess you're right. I am curious. If you want nothing from me, then why did you have to give me the lump on my head?"

"Boss's orders." Before I could get my next question out he flipped me my wallet. "I was actually hired to kill you. It was the only way I could get here."

"Oh, lovely. More people after my head. Who's your boss?" I checked in my wallet to make sure all the cash, cards and ID were in there. He made sure I knew they were.

"Don't worry, I didn't steal anything, I just wanted to know who you were. I saw the R.P.D. badge in there. Now I know why they sent you on this mission." It was true that Raccoon City was no longer more than a heaping pile of radioactive rubble, but I still had my badge on me for memory's sake. Apparently, though, he knew something about the happenings in Raccoon City before it was destroyed. I assumed it had something to do with Miss Chambers, or perhaps he had been through it himself. "To answer your question, though, my boss was Hayden, the head of the CIA."

"What?" I stopped right in the middle of sliding my wallet back into my back pocket, holding it there halfway in as I tried to register what he just said. "The CIA?"

"Yup," was his sole response.

"So, this whole mission was a fluke..." I couldn't believe it. President Graham set me up. He sent me on this 'mission' that might not even really exist only to be killed. Of course, I expected the deadly mission part that most likely involve me dying, but hiring a killer?

"Not exactly." I looked back towards Billy again, urging him to continue. "I know all about your affair with a certain Miss Ashley Graham. That's not what this is about. Hayden thought that you shouldn't have been sent on this mission in the first place, that you knew too much. First he disagreed with the President's orders to send in a nearby SWAT team, but then he was even more pissed off that he sent you in by yourself again. Hayden's got a grudge against you for stealing the glory when you brought Ashley back. That's CIA territory, and it would've taken them weeks, maybe months to get her back. You brought her back in less than a week."

"Okay, so he's jealous and decides to kill me off without the President's knowledge, meanwhile the President doesn't even care whether I live or die in the first place. Where am I going to go when all of this is over?" I was cornered. People wanted me dead on all sides. I didn't even have a home to go to now...

"Honestly? I don't care. I'm here for personal reasons."

"It's about Rebecca, isn't it?" I asked as I slowly stood up, stretching out a little.

"You're a keen one alright," he said sarcastically. "When I returned to Rebecca's house after the FBI scare, I found that she wasn't there. I waited for awhile- five whole days, in fact- and she never came home. Her cell phone was there, so I had no way of getting in touch with her either. I had no clue where she was, and my only lead was the FBI, since they had barged into her house a week before. But, as you saw in your description of me, I'm a wanted man, I can't just walk into an FBI office and demand to know where Rebecca is."

"Wait a second," I said, trying to catch up. "If your first lead was the FBI, how did you get involved with the CIA?" I didn't care how he knew Rebecca or how the entire thing got started, but I was completely baffled as to how he could speak to the head of the CIA if he was wanted for the massacre of twenty-three people.

He groaned and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out and then folding them behind his head. "I never talked to the FBI. I was actually packing up for that suicide mission when Rebecca's home phone rang. At first I didn't answer it, but they persisted, calling seven times straight. I finally picked up, and it was a CIA agent telling me they knew where Rebecca was if I was willing to do them a favor."

"How did they find out where she was?" I asked, still curious as I walked around the room of the shack we were in. Through a ramshackle window I could see outside was blanketed in snow and darkened by a ceiling of gray clouds. Not quite the same beautiful day we had in D.C.

"Hell if I know. I didn't ask that much, I just did as they told. I figured that if they knew where I was, they wouldn't bother to trick me just to kill me; they could do that on their own power. So I went to the meeting place he described and they took me straight to the CIA h.q. so I could talk to the big man himself."

"And your mission was to kill me?"

"You got it. Get rid of you, and save Rebecca on my own. If I survived, they would allow me to live in piece with her and my status as officially deceased would be upheld. It's not the greatest deal but it was the best they would give me, I didn't have too many other choices." He looked down at the floor for awhile, as if pondering something important, most likely about the part of killing me. If he failed to do that, would they let him live in peace?

"So... looks like we've got the same goal now." That broke his daze. He looked back up at me with a questioning gaze. "We've got to infiltrate that building and survive it. We can team up in order to save Rebecca, I'll find out the info I need and then we'll get the hell out of there. Once we get back to D.C., I'll bring your case straight to the President, and I'm sure he'll make sure your end of the bargain is upheld, even if I'm not dead. He and Hayden have a bit of a rivalry going, so he'll want to show him up more than he'll care about your seven-year-old sentence."

Billy looked back at the ground, crouched over with his elbows on his knees and twiddling his thumbs slowly. "Heh, team up," he said with a chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just reminded me of something, that's all." He looked back up at me with a confident smirk on his face, then stood upright and held out his hand. "Rebecca comes before your mission, deal?"

I stuck out my hand to firmly grab his, though I found out through his rock solid grip that he was definitely as strong as he looked. "Deal. I'm used to these search and rescue things more than reconnaissance anyway." As we finished shaking hands, he began walking towards the doorway of the small shack, opening it and revealing the two white snowmobiles Hunnigan had promised us.

"Well, let's not waste anymore time," he said, leaving the door open for me. I walked out behind him, seeing that the camouflage and our bags were already set out separately on each snowmobile- he knew I was going to say yes all along. Of course, I didn't have too much of a choice, as this was pretty much my mission already, but I began to wonder just who was playing me. Who did I have to fear most? The President? Hayden? Billy? Wekser? My mind began to play out every scenario it could think of, and every single person was a possibility. I was beginning to think that no matter whether I came out of this facility alive or not, I was a dead man anyway. I could probably say the same for Billy; someone would eventually double-cross him for sure. We were both cornered by higher powers wanting us dead, and we had to accept what they were willing to give, if anything at all. I laughed softly to myself at how similar our situations seemed to be, even though our backgrounds seemed so much different. I had a feeling I was going to like this Billy guy after all.

We put on the white pants, coats, and helmets, which proved to be quite warm, thank God. The chill wasn't life-threatening, but it was definitely pretty damn cold. Billy hopped onto his snowmobile and I followed, each of us starting it and waiting for it to get warm.

"You ready, Kennedy?" he shouted over the revving of our engines.

I kindly gestured to him. "Your lead, Coen."

And with that, we left on our seventy mile journey, both of us unsure of what was to come. We had absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves into...

---


	5. Cold Start

**Disclaimer:** Alright. As you all may very well know already, I do not own the Resident Evil/Biohazard franchise or any of its characters. Those rights belong to Capcom. Also, I have only been able to play Resident Evil 0, 1, 3 and 4, but have done rather thorough research on all the characters' backgrounds and history to make sure I didn't screw up somewhere, but if I do have something that conflicts with the canon of the series, please email me and let me know and I'll have it fixed. Just please don't flame me over it; it's not that big of a deal.

So, without further ado, I bring you...

---

**Resident Evil: A Deadly Mistake**

**Chapter 4 – Cold Start**

---

"_Leon... I love you."_

Those words echoed in my brain throughout this entire damn trip. But not in the 'back of my head' fashion; no, it resonated more like an entire shelf of fine china slamming against the ground all at once- again and again for a solid hour straight. It was hard not to concentrate on her face, diligent as I was not to do so. Her features kept coming up, dimly lit, perfectly outlined like a sweet silhouette just above me as her smooth, blonde locks fell around my face. I pictured her innocent, genuine smile, the simple way her lips moved as she whispered it against my own. I felt her warm breath with each moment of each syllable, as if recounting it in slow motion over and over and over again. I couldn't even recount what happened before or after she said it, yet I could remember every tiny detail of that five second span. And it just kept playing repeatedly in my mind like an annoying kid asking for his new favorite toy- it just kept repeating, nagging, pulling my strings until I went crazy.

But that's what a seventy mile trek, we had been driving for over an hour in complete silence. Coen led the way, and I winged him to the left about twenty yards back. There was obviously no conversation, simply the heartwarming sounds of a loud, industrial engine to sooth our minds. I'm sure he was in the same position- well, sort of. This Rebecca Chambers girl had to be on his mind. He had to be thinking of her, after all, she was the reason his ass was out here in the first place. But at least she gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of longing, something to hope for... Ashley simply confused and, sadly, agitated me. Why did she love me? Why did she say that? Was it just because we were sleeping together, or was their any legitimacy behind it? Maybe she really...

Nah, c'mon Leon. She was a stupid young girl with a stupid crush on the guy that saved her life. That's completely understandable. And you took her virginity because it was very plainly offered; that's also completely understandable, right?

I shook my helmeted head violently, as if trying to rip the helmet off on neck strength alone. I had to get my mind off of her. This wasn't love- at least, not romantic. I cared for her, just like I care about any person undeserving of the torment they've endured, but-

Next thing I knew, a bright, orange flash nearly blinded me, a huge, thundering explosion nearly deafened me, and I was clinging to my snowmobile with every fiber of my being for the sake of living a moment longer. The explosion rocked my ride hard, nearly tipping it over at full speed and making me frantically shift my body weight to keep the legs on the snow. I overcompensated, pulling the already off balance machine too far to the right as I began to feel myself lose balance. The snowmobile rocked on its right leg for a moment's time before falling quickly to that side and beginning to flip. I couldn't stay on, however my instincts controlled my body now in this sudden, life-threatening moment. I had to fight my own body, forcing myself to loosen my choking grip on the machine and let myself fall in rhythm with its spiral. At the last moment, before my leg was crushed under the weight of the twirling metal machine, I kicked off, still not understanding what the hell was happening or thinking of anything besides the most basic need of all: survival. As my ride slammed onto its side, hitting the icy ground and rolling over itself with loud thuds, I rolled alongside it, my body banging hard against that same cold, hard ground again and again, different parts of me bruising randomly on the near solid ice as I bounced upon it like a stone skipping atop water. I didn't feel a thing though- no pain, no fear, no sounds or sights- I simply lived it. It's a feeling difficult to explain to one who hasn't experienced it for himself, but when the fear of death takes you over, every little detail of life is sucked into a vacuum out of mind, and you simply live. Every moment happens and just as quickly fades, all the while you wonder one thing: _Please, God, let me live._

As I violently came to a stop, my senses suddenly came back to me in an equally violent rush. I heard my snowsuit's material scratching along the ice below me, and felt the snow compacting underneath my body as it slid to a halt. I heard my ride thud a few more times, the sound of metal on solid ice clanking time and time again before fading away. I couldn't tell what happened to it or where it was; right now, I didn't give a damn. Jolts of pain shot through my nerves that had temporarily seemed on break during the whole experience. I cried out in a long groan within the confines of my helmet, my aching body writhing around slowly as if I were subconsciously checking to make sure everything worked properly. I couldn't tell if anything was broken, but I felt good enough to stand; I just wanted to rest a little bit before I tried it.

"Shiiiit..." I groaned again as my right hand, the one not clenching my throbbing side, reached to my helmet strap to undo it. I fumbled around with it in my heavily padded gloves, grunting louder with every try it took. Once I finally unsnapped it, I let out a short, relieved sigh, then grunted once again as I attempted to push the helmet off. It was then that I realized my neck was absolutely killing me- I must have rolled over on my head at some point during my fall. My eyes remained clenched tightly, the bright light of what looked like a bonfire straight ahead causing my head to drastically want to explode. More painful noises came from the back of my throat as I rolled onto my back, letting the back of my head fall back onto the ice cold pillow of snow beneath me. I tried to open my eyes, but each time I saw nothing but sparkles and that incredibly annoying light. _Damn that light..._

That's when I remembered. "Shit! Coen!" My body bolted upright, emitting another pained groan through my clenched teeth as I seemingly forgot that I was in pain. I hold myself up in a sitting position with my gloved hands laid flat on the ice below me before one comes up to rub the back of my throbbing head. "Coen!!" I shout, causing another burning sting to shoot from the neck on up. Another wince, another groan, another shout of Billy's name. The process was repeated I don't know how many times before I stumbled up to my feet. I was dizzy, wobbling around like a drunk on the street as I tried to look ahead, but that light... it was too damn bright! I shielded my eyes with my fat, padded arm as I tried to scan the area surrounding the bonfire, but the reflecting sheet of snow didn't help me much. "Coen!" I continued to yell, worrying myself more with each lack of a response. "COEN!!"

I was happy to see I was lacking the need of a limp; at least my legs were fine. My right side was killing me- most likely bruised, possibly broken ribs. My shoulder on that same side felt like it had been torn off and lazily put back on. But still, I wasn't that bad off. Coen was still MIA.

I could feel the heat resonating from that huge flame now, and no matter where I looked I saw light. But still, I didn't see him. "Coen! Where are you?" I was almost too close to the fire now, as the sensation of being cooked up inside my own thick apparel kindly showed me, so I began to circle around it, continuously calling for him, my yells becoming progressively more desperate. The constant crackling and blowing of the fire filled my ears while the heat beat on my exposed face like a noontime sun, slowly killing my nerves that had numbed from the harsh winter's cold. My head still seemed like it's slowly splitting open, my eyes began to adjust, and I finally realized that the fire was coming from a snowmobile.

"Billy! Billy get up!" My whole body tightened and fell to my knees at the sight of him- unmoving, unresponsive and trapped beneath a flaming piece of machinery. I screamed for him to get up as I smacked and pulled on his coat multiple times, but his whole body simply flailed lightly with my movements like a rag doll. I screamed again; no response. Finally I reached for his helmet strap, fumbling around with it even more awkwardly than I had my own considering the new life-threatening situation. "God damnit... ugh!" I suddenly rip it off with a shortlived relief before I ease the helmet off, confirming that he was out cold. I said his name again, and again he didn't move. Fearing the worst, I tore off my glove like a leech and felt his neck...

There was a pulse.

My satisfaction didn't live long, as I was instantly reminded of the fire. It was at the head of the machine and seemingly unmoving, but my knowledge with snowmobiles was quite limited- I had no idea when that flame would reach the gas tank. I didn't want to hit the panic button, but I had to get him out from under this thing asap.

"C'mon, Coen... We're getting you out of here," I said with a grunt as I tried to pull him from under his shoulders, as if he could respond to me. He was a big guy, and seemed twice as big as dead weight. But still, I figured I could budge him a little... His leg must have been pinned. Perfect. "Billy! Wake up, damnit!" I let go of his armpits and began slapping his ice cold cheek with my bare hand, making my own skin sting while I'm at it. I continue yelling at him like an angry parent before, at last, I get some life.

A man's eyes fluttering open had never seemed so beautiful to me.

"Billy! Come on, man, you need to wake up! We need to get you out of here!"

"...huh...?" His voice was weak as his eyes wandered, not seeming to actually see anything clearly enough to depict it. I didn't have the patience to wait for him, and adjusted myself to begin pulling at his shoulders again. As I did, however, I got an immediate, unexpected growl of disapproval. "Ah! What the hell are you doing?" His voice was still pretty weak, but the apparent pain made it plenty loud enough for me to understand not to pull anymore. I let go, and he winced, grunted again, then reached for his right arm, clenching his coat for relief.

"Arm?" was all I asked. I got a quick nod in response. I lowered myself to the ground to see what it was, and immediately feared the worst. All I could see was a jagged piece of ice piercing his bear-like coat. "It's fine, Coen, you're fine," I said, not able to hide the blatant sound of a lie.

"Don't bullshit me," he forced through a hard grimace. "I feel like something's sticking into my arm."

"Well, I'm no medic, but you look great. Now bite onto something and brace yourself..." Without consulting the injured man himself, I wrapped my hands around his thick arm, and almost immediately pulled straight up. He howled in displeasure, his entire face contorting beneath me, but no complaints followed. I look down, however, at the ice spike still there- it's red. "Alright, that wasn't so bad was it?" I ask with a grin as I crawl over him to get to the non-fiery end of his snowmobile. "Now what do you say we get your lazy ass out from under this thing and get out of here before it explodes, 'kay?"

He nodded again, still without a gripe. "Sounds good." He kept his eyes clenched as I let out a breath, positioning myself to use my legs and tip the snowmobile up. I didn't want to move it around too much, afraid that I may trigger an explosion and end us both, but I had to get it up enough for him to slip out on his own power. With another painful groan, I pushed up, my shoulder honestly feeling like it was about to tear right out from its socket. I tried to keep the ride from rocking as I watched the victim's formerly pinned leg, waiting agitatedly for it to move out of the way.

"Move!" I barked, half sarcastically, half in full seriousness. He obliged, pulling his whole body forward as his leg was in obvious pain. Again, I began to fear the worst as the big, bad tough guy refused to move that leg, choosing instead to use his two arms- one of which was just jabbed with the icicle from hell- to drag his body out of the way, painstakingly slow I may add. Once he was good, I very slowly lowered the flaming machine, letting it rest back on its side just how it was.

"Come on, we need to get out of here." I don't waste any time in reaching down for the other man, wrapping my arm behind his back to ease him up rather hastily to a sitting position and making him visibly grimace.

"You don't need to tell me twice," he chided with teeth clenched tight enough to cause a few cavities. He reached his arm back behind my neck, giving me better leverage to pull him up. "Ah, careful!"

"Right." I stared at his straightened leg, wondering silently how bad it was under my halfhearted morale boosts. A few more moments and he was up to his feet, his weight supported fully on one side. Gradually, we began to walk, making the transition faster than he would like due to the ticking time bomb that was his fuel tank. We kept our cool, though, giving off short, witty responses to each other's short, witty responses while we limped away.

"Come on, pansy, your leg can't hurt THAT bad."

"Shutup and carry me, smartass."

"Soon as you suck it up and walk it off."

"Bite me."

My whole body ached, and I knew it would only be worse once I settled down and the adrenaline faded, but I was still more worried about Billy's leg, as well as that, most likely, puncture wound on his arm. I hardly noticed the horribly cold wind beating against my face as we continued moving, coming slowly nearer to my crashed, but not inflamed, snowmobile.

"Why the hell did they plant a mine?" The question was random, but it broke our awkward silence after the short exchange of pseudo funny chiding. I didn't know if he actually expected me to answer that one with a real response or not.

"Well, to keep _us _out of their base, most likely. But that's just a guess. Feel free to disagree."

"No, seriously, it's not Wesker's style." Now I could tell it was a serious question. My features immediately grew cold to match his. "His history has always been to drag subjects in to test out his hellish experiments... right?"

"Far as I know about his history, yes. But he's always ended up regretting it, so I don't think it's that hard to imagine him changing his plan up a bit."

"What about the operatives that were already killed?" A silence befell us again, neither of us making eye contact as we kept our eyes ahead, waiting for the moment we could stop standing upright. I pondered what he said, unable to come up with a real, legitimate conclusion.

"Beats me. Maybe they just happened to not trip a mine. Or he knew we would be the government's next tactic, so I just now set the mines."

"I don't know... It's possible that one wasn't even his; it wasn't powerful enough to kill me after all. It's probably left over from someone else."

"Who, Canada?" I smirk and cough some sort of laugh as we finally reach my overturned ride. "I'm no history buff, but I don't remember any wars being waged in the middle of Alaska. Regardless of who planted it, you're hurt, and we're screwed. I'll radio Hunnigan and get us some help-"

"No!" His immediate bark caught me off guard; I'm sure he felt my body jolt some at the sound of his voice. He clarified, "Rebecca's in there. We're getting her first."

Billy Coen. I barely knew this guy. In fact, what little knowledge I had on him came from meeting him disguised as someone else hired to take me out, awaking with him holding my wallet, and an hour long trip across Alaska without a word. And yet... I really respected him. I watched as he pulled away from me, limping majorly on that bad leg before sitting down with a thud and following with a groan of pain. His bad leg was spread, his good one hiked up, and he quickly removed his coat. All that shielded him from the bone-chilling winds now was his faded black wifebeater, which he also removed without hesitation. I couldn't help but watch, awestruck as he ripped the shirt into two pieces, then set them in his lap before taking some fine, powdery snow and shoving it up against the wound on his right tricep. He held a yelp in as he rubbed it in some, then used his now bloody hand to tie a piece tightly around his arm. I stood there, watching stupidly at his persistence, wondering what was going through his mind now: was it for survival, or was it for Rebecca?

"You know, you could get that snowmobile ready instead of standing there like an idiot."

I shook my head slightly, focusing my vision again to see him looking at me with a goofy grin. I chuckled, rather embarrassed, before turning to do just that. "Yeah, of course..." Suddenly, my aching muscles didn't hurt quite as much, seeing what my pain was comparable to. Obviously, I'd seen my fair share of wounds, but right now, he was worse off than I was; my bruises were nothing. As I worked to flip over my ride and examine it, my mind wandered back to my thought from before... was it for survival, or was it for her? As if on cue, that same thought of Ashley flooded my mind, that exact same silhouette hovering over me, whispering softly, afraid to get caught, "...Leon... I love you..."

Did I do it for survival... or did I do it for her?

I whipped my head from side to side again, attempting to simply justify it and move on. I was in a survival situation now, more drastic than it had been just a few moments earlier. I couldn't let this bother me so much. _She didn't really love me, _I told myself._ She thought she did, and she voiced it, like any naïve girl would. _I wasn't questioning my feelings for her- I knew just how far they went. But this man, this Billy Coen... He was here for a different reason than I was there for Ashley. He, from what I could tell, loved Rebecca. He was willing to sacrifice himself to simply find her. He was willing to fight through the pain and the odds to get her. I was willing to do all that before... but, why? For a paycheck? For pride? For my country? For all of that bullshit the Secret Service fed me? No... Why DID I do it? What kept me alive...?

"It's safe to drive," I call over my shoulder to him as I let the engine warm after starting it, hardly remembering when I started it amidst my all-too-deep thinking.

"Good, 'cause I'm not safe to walk yet." I turned to face him, seeing him limp towards me. His coat was back on, which he was in the process of zipping up, and the bottom part of his white warm suit was back on, leaving me from seeing how bad it was. I had to ask.

"How bad is it?"

"I've had worse. You drive." He brushed past me, getting behind the snowmobile slowly as I turned to watch. A grin pulled at the corner of my lips while I give a small sigh, watching his effort without asking for a break. I shake my head lightly before straddling the seat and scooting as close to the front as I can to allow him to fit behind me. Gingerly, he climbed aboard, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Ready?"

"Just go."

Not only was he persistent about her, he was also impatient. Understandable. I revved the engine and we were off; no wasted time.

Through that whole experience I hadn't even once noticed that we were within view of our destination. As we neared it, I wondered if Wesker had seen us hit that mine, or if he could tell that we were already injured. We'd be lucky if he didn't even know we were coming. But, whatever luck we might've had probably flew out the window as I heard another explosion behind us: Billy's former death sentence. I didn't bother to look back, sure that it ended in a large beacon of fiery light, as if to announce our coming, action movie style. "Get ready for hell," I shout behind me over the sounds of the engine and the wind rushing past our ears. Billy stayed silent, and not surprisingly, I knew what was on his mind. I only wish I could feel that same way.

---


End file.
